Sacrifice
by socks-lost
Summary: Fallout 3. Spoilers for the ending. Female LW. One-shot.


**A/N: **First time venturing out into Fallout fanfiction. Probably will be my last hah. I was playing the other day and I just couldn't help but think about what my character was thinking as she walked into the chamber. (Actually I was more thinking about Three Dog and what might James think if he heard the disc jockey talking about his daughter, and then it kind of morphed into this.) Anyways. Short little one-shot.

**Disclaimer: **Don't own the characters.

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How had she come to this point? That was her only thought as she stared into the blue eyes of a woman she was sure could have been her best friend had they lived in another lifetime, one where war and death didn't rock the very foundation of which they stood. There wasn't a question in her mind that she would go into the purifier with the code. It was always meant to be her. Her entire life was caught up all in this very moment. To die or not to die. To sacrifice herself for the greater good, go out like a hero, or falter on the last step, too afraid of that pesky thing called dying and let someone else make the ultimate sacrifice. It wasn't a contest. She would go into the purifier. She would press the code. She would die. And humanity, humanity would be a better place. Squaring her shoulders, she walked into the purifier. Her heart pounded painfully loud in her chest, almost mocking her. How had she come to this point?

It seemed like only yesterday she walked out of the vault into the bright sunlight of the wasteland. She was so young, so naïve to the world and the wrongness that it was. The sun, the real sun, nearly blinded her. She lived in the vault her whole life with artificial light and processed air. Naturally the elements were the first thing that caught her attention. She was sweating from the heat. That first day walking until she couldn't anymore made everything finally sink in. She didn't have a home. Her father abandoned her. Her mother was dead, had been for years, but now more than ever it seemed to affect her more out there in the wide open space. Her so called friends had betrayed her. She was alone. That night she fell onto her knees in front of a structure that seemed to be held together by pieces of tin metal and the will of whatever god was out there, she thought about putting the 10mm gun she had to her temple. She thought about it, did it actually. But she didn't have any bullets left so she went inside.

Standing in front of the purifier months, maybe a year, maybe more (time always blurred in the Wastes) she was glad she didn't off herself then. She had saved so many lives. She'd taken a lot too. The one thing that kept her going through all the mess was Three Dog and the thought that her father was out there, somewhere. That maybe if he could hear Three Dog sing her praises all over the wastes he would know she was looking for him. He would know she was the woman he raised her to be. That she knew humanity was worth the fight. That she believed in his dream, in her mother's dream. When he was killed in front of her a new fire burned for the vengeance of both her parents. She made a pact with herself that day, that whatever needed to be done she would do it come hell or high water. This was hell, this was high water and she was doing it.

Fawkes and Sarah were waiting on her move on the outside. It was only fitting that she was alone once more on the biggest step. She started this journey alone; she would end this journey alone. As she pressed the first number she thought of all the good men and women she'd seen die. Star Paladin Cross. Donavan of Riley's Rangers. Countless Brotherhood of Steel Members of which she had seen to personally garnering their dog tags so that their deaths could be recorded properly. With each number she remembered. She remembered Moira Brown and her hopelessly optimistic demeanor. She remembered Dogmeat and Wadsworth who were both waiting in her house at Megaton. She hoped Fawkes would take care of them. She remembered the ghouls in Underworld and the children in Little Lamp Light. The slavers she had killed and the slaves she rescued. She remembered that this, this was worth it. For another little girl like her to grow up in a healthy place, with clean water, without the insanity of the Wastes and without being locked inside of an underground hole. That little girl would have a chance at a better life because of her.

Her hands were shaking as she reached for the last button. As the radiation took over her senses and her knees collapsed it wasn't her father whom she thought of. It was a mother she never knew, a life she could've had that didn't involve war and guns and vaults. A life where she might've had a little brother or sister. Maybe a dog. A backyard where she could play, a street to ride her tricycle. And at night before she would go to bed her mother would read to her. It was a life that was interrupted by big powerful men making decisions that would affect her (and millions of others) eons before her time. What could they say if they could see the world now? Their decisions had ruined so much. She knew what her mother sounded like from a holotape she found her first time at the Jefferson Memorial. She hung onto her mother's voice as she started to fade.

She always thought dying would be hard, that it would be painful. She had a heady stock of stimpak's ready to use at all times because this fear was so all-consuming. But as the radiation finally took her and her vision blurred she knew that dying, dying was the easiest thing of all.


End file.
